


Under Pressure

by cherrycola94



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Superboy (Comics), Young Justice (Comics)
Genre: A little crack, Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bodyguard, Bodyguard Romance, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Light-Hearted, M/M, WELL KINDA BECAUSE TIM ISN'T ROBIN BUT EVERYTHING ELSE IS THE SAME, god this is fucking cheesy LMAO, it gets a little darker later but it's okay, well kinda light-hearted
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29803782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrycola94/pseuds/cherrycola94
Summary: Kon can see that Tim Drake’s smiles are free and contagious. He wouldn't be surprised if the man slept with a pleasant smile on his face. All of the media and business-oriented people adored his innocent demeanor and admirable work ethic.Kon-El also smiles a lot too, but he's noticed that he only smiles with his mouth and almost never with his eyes. He sometimes can’t tell the difference between his genuine smiles and the fake ones he throws on in front of the mirror every day. The media dragged his name through the dirt as much as they could when he was a teen.He's the last person everyone expects to apply for a job here.
Relationships: Bart Allen & Kon-El | Conner Kent, Cissie King-Jones/Cassie Sandsmark, Kon-El | Conner Kent & Cassie Sandsmark, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Kon-El | Conner Kent, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	Under Pressure

**Author's Note:**

> Kon’s at the ripe age of 26, still recovering from his disposal from the hero community at 18 (thanks, Superman!).
> 
> Tim, while figuring out Batman’s secret identity, never became Robin. He remained behind a computer and inside everyone’s comms until Oracle took over for him. He’s now 25 and second-in-command to world’s biggest technology company, Wayne Industries.
> 
> (i'm mashing things up in this to fit my story because i wrote a little bit of this waaaaay back when and it made even less sense in the first draft)

Kon feels out of place at Wayne Tower.

The people inside of this pristine glass-and-marble building look like they spent boatloads of money on the nicest suits money could buy. Cashmere and silk in neutral tones among other fabrics Kon couldn’t be bothered remembering. Flashy silver rings sparkled on hands holding black leather suitcases and shiny white pearls glinted against necks in the artificial glow of the modern fluorescent tubes hanging from the ceiling.

Kon personally liked his outfit, no matter how... casual it looked. He found this white button-up shirt (his _only_ button-up shirt) at a Walmart in Blüdhaven three months ago for his first job interview. The formal pants at the store were ten dollars too much for his budget back then-- twenty dollars too much for his budget now-- so he decided on his nicest pair dark blue jeans. His leather jacket brought him luck, so he decided to throw it around his arms at the last second. It might have not been the most _professional_ move, but it sure as hell made Kon look ten times cooler. Plus, if these people couldn't take his style, it wouldn't be the end of the world.

~~Okay. Kon needed a job as quickly as possible and he was starting to run out of options. But there are worse things than having to settle for a dozen shifts at various McDonalds locations. He could _totally_ recover from being rejected from another job again. He's fine. He's cool. ~~

When he enters the interview room, a woman in a crisp white power suit sits at a huge polished oak table. It’s roughly the size of an entire kitchen island with almost nothing on it-- a half-dead plant, a clipboard, a shiny gold laptop, and a metallic desk lamp switched off. She gives him a quick one-over and the look of disgust on her face is thinly veiled by a cold smile. It’s a look that makes Kon wish he left the leather jacket at home.

_Oh, well._ Kon shrugs internally. As Lex used to say, every mistake is a learning opportunity (if you don’t ever make the same mistake again).

“I’m Tracey, Tracey Campbell,” Her voice sounds a little nasally, like every other rich person Kon met throughout his life. She stands up when Kon gets closer, and sticks out her hand toward him. Kon gives her the firm businessman handshake that Lex drilled into him. She waves toward the couch in front of the desk-- _which is weird,_ Kon thinks _because normally people don’t have_ couches _in their stuffy offices._

"Kon-El," Kon sits. "I heard of the opening through a job search site.” Cassie told him last time she helped him prepare for a job to tell the interviewer where he found out about the position.

“So, what’s your experience?” Tracy asks and Kon tries his best to _not_ let his thoughts jump right into the gutter. He hands her the resume he typed up last time with Bart and Cissie over FaceTime.

“It’s on the paper but--” Kon shifts a little and the entire couch creaks loudly. He cringes. “--I was engineered to be a living weapon, so that would be my overall selling feature.”

She nods, frowning. That was a thing with rich people: they were boring as _fuck._ Not even a little smile or a question. She just accepted it. “Any martial arts training?” Tracey asks. “Criminal psychology courses?”

“Good question,” Kon smiles winningly. Tracey seems unamused. “See, I’ve been downloaded with all of that necessary psychological information by those scientists at LexCorp when I was created. Hell, I was supposed to be _Lex Luthor’s_ bodyguard and replacement for Superman-- should he die.”

Kon leans back and is about to kick his feet up onto the coffee table in front of him, but decides against it. He looked bad enough already, he didn’t need to go around looking more unprofessional. “Look, I know you’ve seen me on the news at some point. You’re… old enough to know that I’ve been around.” Kon gestures to his face. He likes to think he’s memorable enough. “I really don’t know why I have to do this to prove myself _.”_

He gestures vaguely around the bland room. White walls, white furniture, a single framed photo of a snowy landscape; minus the yellow of the dead plant, it looked like a blank canvas _begging_ to be painted. He notices his hands are shaking a little, so he lowers them into his lap.

“Well, if you were supposed to be _Lex Luthor’s_ bodyguard I can’t imagine why he’d throw away a fine specimen like yourself,” Tracey replies sarcastically. Normally, Kon would wink at someone calling him a _fine specimen,_ but something inside told him it wasn’t a compliment in this case.

“We… had some creative differences about my future,” Kon’s hands start shaking a little more violently, so he meshes his fingers together and locks them down in place. The shaking eases. “Those misunderstandings are past us now.”

“The past often comes back to us, Mr. El,” Tracey squints at his resume for a second. “I’m going to have to document your _actual_ skills before taking a file over to Mr. Drake. He decides on who to hire based off of their files--” She taps an open laptop on her desk with her pen. “--and while I admit, all of the fights you’ve gotten into in the past are impressive, you’ve failed to state _specifically_ what you can do for this business. And Mr. Drake.”

Kon refrains from rolling his eyes too hard. She was trying _way_ too hard to be good at her job.

“Alright,” He leans forward, his knees digging into his thighs. “I have a little thing called _tactical telekinesis.”_ Kon says it slowly-- not in an attempt to sound condescending, but because he really likes the way the words feel against his teeth and roll off the tip of his tongue. Tac-tile. Te-le-kin-e-sis. It was two-word poetry, and it was all his.

“Tactile… _telekinesis?”_ Tracey scribbles down a note onto her clipboard.

“Tactile telekinesis gives me superhuman strength, flight, force fields, super hearing-- and a lot more.”

“Sure,” Tracey turns to her laptop and types down some notes. 

Kon folds his hands behind his head. “Well, that’s all I’ve got,” He sits back and crosses one leg over top of the other.

“Prove it,” Tracey says suddenly.

Kon chuckles, fidgeting with the rings on his fingers. She didn’t believe him, but he wasn’t surprised.

“Were you really the Superboy? Can you actually fly?” Tracey continues, her beady black eyes boring right into his. “All the stuff you’ve stated is common fanboy knowledge. For all I know, you’re a fake trying to get a quick buck.”

Kon smiles dryly and stands up.

“Is this--” He crouches and uses a single hand to pick up the couch from underneath. It’s dusty, but Kon tries not to express any disgust.

Tracey’s eyes widen from the size of quarters to dimes and her mouth hangs open. “--is this good enough? Or do I have to balance your desk on my pinky with you sittin’ on top of it?”

Immediately after that, something in Tracey’s manners shift. She finally seems to have come to her senses, and writes Kon a glowing recommendation right in front of him. Kon adds in certain details she missed and the two work together in an unlikely pair to try and re-work his resume and file to make him sound (even more) appealing. By the end it’s clear that nobody else applying for the empty bodyguard position could compete with Kon. Without even consulting her boss, Tracey hands Kon the papers necessary for him to sign for his new job.

“It’s not every day you come across a bodyguard as talented as yourself,” She smiles-- an honest-to-big-man-G-smile. “I’m going to get _such_ a great bonus.” She mutters dreamily.

“That’s what I was trying to tell you, babe,” He waves before walking out the door. “I’m pretty damn good.”

So that day, Kon leaves the intimidatingly tall building with the pockets of his jacket stuffed to the brim with legal contracts and a huge grin on his face.

***

“I’m tellin’ you Cassie,” He says to his phone, head in hands. “I don’t know!”

“Kon,” Cassie’s voice is firm and professional. Maybe _she_ should apply for the bodyguard position instead. She had powers too, and she had legal document smarts. “You know this. Just try to read it slowly.”

“I’ve been reading it for half an hour,” Kon groans. “This language is too dense for its own good.”

“It’s still English,” Cassie said. “How bad can it possibly be?”

“Cass, it’s like they Google Translated it from Dutch to French to English,” Kon squinted at the papers. _“Date of placement,_ like, what the fuck does that mean? Wouldn’t Lex think about givin’ me business knowledge to help him out or something?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask him yourself?”

He gasps out loud. “Yo! He didn’t teach me because he didn’t want me to get another job outside of working for him!”

“You are a true genius,” Cassie says dryly. It sounded windy on her end of the call. “Look, I have to go. I’m supposed to be headed to class.”

“Isn’t it like, six AM over there?” Kon frowns at more of the documents. Every time he looks away, they seem to multiply. “You’ve still got some time, lemme pick your brain.”

“Yeah, no,” Cassie says. “I’ve got World Politics in--” She’s probably checking the watch Cissie bought her as a going-to-university gift. “Right now.”

“Well, it’s _nine_ over here and I need you more,” Kon whines.

“Look, the word placement is used to refer to when someone gets the job,” Cassie says. “Read the context and then fill it out appropriately. If what I’m saying is wrong, _please_ ask Google.”

“Okay,” Kon scribbles down her statement as a note in the margins. “Hey, wait, if it says--”

“Kon,” Cassie interrupts. “Buddy. You’re one of my best friends--”

“I’m not THE best friend?” Kon gasped loudly as he could into the mic of his phone. “I’m only _one_ of them?”

“Kon!” He can feel Cassie's annoyance on the other end of the call and regrets bothering her (but only a _little bit_ _)._ “I can’t skip my class just to help you with something that you can Google! Listen, you can do it. Just read it over out loud and slowly. You’re a lot smarter than you think.” Some shuffling on her end. “If you have any questions you can text me later but now I really have to go now, bye.”

“Yeah, but--”

He hears the aggressive drone of the dial tone.

“Urgh, Cassie,” He frowns at her contact photo. “You’re so _mean.”_ He flicks her smile once with his fingernail for good measure.

He picks up his pencil and taps it three times against the edge of his kitchen bar before writing down his name on the legal document. He thumbs through the endless papers of ink and boxes. Krypto pads into the room at that exact moment, sitting next to Kon and wagging his tail. Kon leans over and scratches the dog’s head affectionately.

“I dunno if you can tell, but this is gonna take me a _long_ time,” Kon sighs.

**Author's Note:**

> i've never applied for an actual office job and i never want to.  
> also i know i said that i drafted this a while back but most of it was scrapped so:  
> this series has no concrete plan. sit back, relax, and enjoy


End file.
